Lose The Time
by Whoser-Chick
Summary: Will Carter's wounds ever heal? Eventually a Carby story. WORK IN PROGRESS.
1. Default Chapter

**Title: Lose The Time**

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Author: Whoser-Chick**

**  
Summary: Will Carter's wounds ever heal? Eventually a Carby story.**

**  
Rating: R – for some rough language and drug use.**

**  
Disclaimer: The ER series and its characters belong to Constant C Productions and Warner Brothers. The plot of this story, however, is mine all mine! This story may not be redistributed in any way without the express consent of the author. No infringement is intended.**

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Spoilers: 11x01 – **_One For The Road_** and 11x02 – **_Damaged_**. If you don't want to know what happens in these two episodes, then don't read this story, it goes into depth about 11x02 – **_Damaged_**.**

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Author's notes: I usually am not a spoiler reader, because I have done that in the past and have been very disappointed when I know everything that is going to happen in the episode. I like the surprise of not knowing and just watching to see. However, I wanted to see if Kem and Carter made it, so I broke down and read spoilers for the first few episodes of next season. I will not however read spoilers for any more episodes. So the fanfiction after 11x02 – **_Damaged_**, will be of my own account and what I would like to see happen next season. This story will be very dark in places; it's actually really not a happy go lucky story until the end.**

**The story will eventually be a Carby story, but it's going to be slow going. I am not a Kem fan at all, and am virtually a die hard Carby. However, I do think that Carter really loved Kem and truly wanted the baby with her. I don't think he'd be able to get over the loss of Kem and the baby just like that, without a lot of trials and tribulations. And as much as I'd love him to just run to Abby and them get back together immediately, that is unrealistic in my opinion after what he's gone through. So this story will take a while to go in a Carby romantic direction, but it will. And a lot of the first chapter of this story is what I read about 11x02, **_Damaged_ (only the Carter and Abby parts of 11x02 are in this story)_, _**with my own spin on it though, since I have not actually seen the episode yet**_. _**Oh, and this story is written from a first person point of view, alternating between Carter and Abby's point of view, although a lot of the story is from Carter's point of view. The songs used throughout this story are: Letting the Cables Sleep by Bush and My Immortal by Evanesence.**

**Archive: , all others please ask first (and I will say yes, as long as you ask first).**

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Feedback: Yes, as long as it is constructive criticism. No flames please. **

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I'd like to thank my beta readers: Beth and Chrissy. Thanks for all your invaluable input. I couldn't have done it without you guys!**

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**Chapter One**

_You in the dark_

_You in the pain_

_You on the run_

_Living a hell_

_Living your ghost_

_Living your end_

_Never seem to get in the place that I belong_

_Don't wanna lose the time_

_Lose the time to come_

_Whatever you say it's all right_

_Whatever you do it's all good_

_Whatever you say, it's all right_

_Silence is not the way_

_We need to talk about it_

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**Carter's POV**

She had said no; how could she have said no? I thought...I don't know what I thought. I guess I thought we'd make it through this, together, even though it would be hard. Hard was an understatement; hard was what I wished I were going through right now. This was devastating and even beyond that. I'd lost everything that truly mattered to me...Kem, the baby; they were everything to me.

Lying here in bed, the same thoughts running through my mind for the thousandth time, I looked at the clock and saw that it was 3AM. I had the TV on in the background with a John Ford movie on, although I wasn't exactly paying attention to it. I had a 7AM shift, but this was par for the course lately; sleep was non-existent. The thought occurred to me that I wished I had more night shifts and that maybe I should do something to rectify that. Anything would be better than lying here night after sleepless night rehashing everything that had happened between Kem and I. Especially in this house, the house I had bought for us, for the family we were going to have together. Now all I could think of was how much I hated it here, how I couldn't stand being in this house anymore and how I wanted to sell it so I wouldn't have to be reminded of our time together. My mind wandered back to the last time I had seen Kem.

I had asked her to marry me, but she hadn't responded right away. In fact, she hadn't responded for a few days. She had been in her own world since the baby had died, and barely even said two words to me. I was trying to comfort her, but it didn't seem to be working; she had really become withdrawn. I really did want to marry her though; I had loved her so much and still did. When she had finally responded to my proposal, at County in the lounge no less, it definitely hadn't been what I had expected or wanted to hear. She had told me that she had to go back to Africa, where she belonged, that she couldn't stay here anymore. I had offered to go back with her, that's how much I wanted to be with her. She said that she loved me very much, but couldn't be with me anymore. Every time she saw me, she said, she was reminded of what she had lost. I told her that my loss was great, too. I had wanted that baby, my son, just as much as she had wanted him. She said that she understood, but she just couldn't stay here anymore. She had to get away from Chicago...from me. And that was it; she had walked away from me. I had tried to go after her, but she had snapped at me to leave her alone. When I had returned home from work that night, all of her stuff was already gone, which meant that she had left to go back to Africa. If I'd've known she was going to leave that day, I would've fought harder for her and I would've made her listen to me, instead of just letting her walk away like I had. I hadn't heard from her since.

I turned over in my bed, trying to find a comfortable position to lie in, but nothing was comfortable while I was in this empty bed...all alone. Eventually, I somehow managed to fall into a restless sleep.

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_Kem was holding a baby, my baby. We were together and everything was perfect; I was smiling and happy again. But then something was wrong...with the baby. He couldn't breathe because something was strangling him. I tried to run to him, to fix him. I was a doctor for heaven's sake, that was my job, but I couldn't fix him, I couldn't even get to him. Even though I was far away, I could see that he was turning blue and purple, yet I still couldn't get to him. It didn't matter how far or fast I ran I couldn't reach him. Kem was screaming my name and begging me to fix our son, while she was clinging to him for dear life. Why couldn't I get to them? Suddenly Kem's screams turned into hysterical sobs. "Our baby is dead, HE'S DEAD!" she screamed violently, shaking him as hard as she could, as if that would bring him back to life. "You killed our baby!" she screamed hysterically. I still couldn't reach either of them. I kept running and running, not getting any closer. Why was this happening? What had we done to deserve this? Right as I could finally reach out and touch them, they were gone, vanishing into thin air. And I was all alone once again._

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The loud beeping noise penetrated through my dreams and into my head, like a siren in the night. At first I didn't know where I was or what the annoying sound was. Obviously my body did, because my right hand automatically reached out and slammed down the snooze button on the alarm clock, ending the siren in the night noise. I fell asleep again in the nine minutes the snooze alarm gave me. When the alarm went off again, I bolted upright, soaked in sweat. I had been having another nightmare. Funny how nine minutes could seem like an eternity. These nightmares plagued me nightly and sometimes more than once a night. My right hand reached out once again, but turned the alarm completely off this time. It was exactly 6:09AM now and I was lucky if I'd gotten two hours of sleep last night. I yawned, stretched and wiped the sleep out of my eyes, in the process feeling how sweaty I really was. I forced myself out of bed, as I had to be at work in less than one hour, and, stripping off my boxer shorts and hopping in the shower, turned the water temperature to lukewarm. The semi-cool water running over my body felt good on my sweat soaked skin. I finished the shower and then quickly got ready for work. Weaver would have my ass if I was even one minute late. I thought about taking the El to work, but realized I'd most likely be late if I did so.

I walked out to my car, hurriedly, but when I tried to start it, the engine wouldn't turn over. I tried to start the jeep repeatedly to no avail.

"Piece of shit jeep!" I yelled out angrily to no one in particular. I slammed both of my hands down on the steering wheel, quite hard. Pain radiated through my hands, to my wrists and up both of my arms. "Shit!" I yelled again. This day was just starting out great. I really needed to get a new car. The El it was after all.

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The first thing I did when I got to work, ten minutes late I might add, was go check on Deb. She was in the hospital at County and I had been meaning to check on her for a while but just hadn't gotten around to it.

Now I was standing in the ambulance bay with Luka waiting for a trauma to come in. I was so tired that I felt like I was going to fall asleep standing up. I really needed to find a way to get more sleep.

"You look terrible," Luka said, with a concerned edge to his voice. He was looking at me intensely, really taking in my appearance.

I wanted to say, "hey, thanks, so do you," but I opted not to. I knew Luka meant well and was only concerned. I didn't really want to deal with this right now, so I kept the conversation light.

"You can't go to sleep while you're in the middle of watching a John Ford movie," I quipped, trying my hardest to crack a smile that I didn't feel. I think Luka understood, because he quickly changed the subject.

"Have you talked to Chen?" he asked.

"She's in a cast and will be having physical therapy," I said, fidgeting with my hands and looking down. I was happy she was all right.

"Pratt's stitches haven't even been taken out yet and he's calling Weaver to get back on the schedule," Luka said, cracking a smile. That was Pratt for you.

I didn't have a chance to respond because the ambulance rolled up at that precise moment. Our patient was a 20 year old male who was altered and had had a below the knee amputation six months ago, from what the paramedics told us. I also found out from his mother, who was with him, that he had been a driver in Iraq and a convoy had cut a corner and the vehicle he had been in had rolled over a landmine, causing the amputation and many skin grafts he'd had. And I thought I had problems.

I sighed; I was so damn tired I could barely see straight. I could already tell it was going to be a long day.

--------------------------------

The day was progressing slowly, just as I'd known it would, and I was in the process of giving my Iraqi soldier patient an LP. He had a sinus infection that had spread to his brain and we needed to isolate the infection. Sam was helping me and I was having a very hard time focusing. Between being tired and all the stress that was my life of late, I could barely hold it together. Part of me wanted to just run out of here screaming, but at least when I was working I could keep busy. After taking the sample from the LP, I saw the liquid was cloudy. I finally really got a good look at my patient and he looked as bad as I felt. I gave the sample to Sam and asked her to take it to the lab and make sure she watched the gram stain being performed on it. Things always seemed to get lost around here.

"Get some sleep," I said to my patient, knowing he needed the rest. I started walking out the door to the lounge, as I was going to need some coffee to get through the rest of this shift. I was fading and fading fast.

"I can't sleep," I heard him say softly. I could hear the sadness, tiredness and anger in his voice with his one comment. I turned back around and looked at him.

"I'll try and get you a quieter room," I said, knowing how noisy the ER could be at times.

"It won't make a difference," he said hoarsely. He paused and it looked like he was contemplating about whether he should open up to me or not. I started walking closer to him again, to encourage him. "In my dreams, it's still my face. I'm still the guy I used to be. But I always wake up...." he trailed off angrily. He looked away from me and I could see tears welling up in his eyes.

I wasn't quite sure how to respond. And although we were going through two totally different situations right now, I understood what he meant, more than he knew. I knew how it felt to wish things were the way they were before and to dream about it all the time. Part of me wanted to pour my sob story out to him, but I knew better than that. I gave him a quick smile and walked swiftly out of the room.

--------------------------------

I was standing at the admit desk, looking at the board and going through some charts when Jerry told me I had a phone call. From Africa. My heart skipped about a million beats. Who else did I know in Africa? It had to be her it just had to be. I practically ran to the phone, almost tripping over my own two feet. I ripped the phone from Jerry's grasp with my heart beating a mile a minute.

"Hello?" I said breathlessly. I waited anxiously to hear her voice, to hear her say she wanted to come back to me and that she'd made a mistake.

"Dr. Carter?" came the reply. It was a male's voice, not Kem. I could barely respond I was so disappointed. I barely even heard what he said after that, but it had something to do with the Carter Foundation making a donation of some sort. I told the guy I would call him back; my heart had just broken all over again.

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The rest of the day went by in a blur. I managed to get punched in the temple by a psych patient. It did enough damage to leave a nice red spot on my temple and I had a bandage on my eyebrow, because she had cut me pretty badly in the process. It also turned out that my soldier patient didn't want the surgery he so desperately needed. I tried to tell him that the surgery was minor, but all I got was an angry, "whatever" from him in return. I understood that he had a very rough life, but I wanted to help him out and didn't seem to be able to. I decided to stay and talk to him, although all I really wanted to do was go sit down in the lounge for a few minutes by myself. We talked about the war and also talked about his ex-fiancée. He had proposed to her before he left for Iraq, but once he was wounded he didn't want her to see him that way, and actually wouldn't let her see him. Again, even though it was a totally different situation, his words hit home.

"Would your ex-girlfriend give up on you so easily?" I asked. I know mine had, but I wanted to scream at him not to let her go, that he'd regret it for the rest of his life if he did. But that wasn't my place.

"She's good, but there are some things people can't get past," he said, referring to his leg amputation.

I tried to say something to help him, but nothing came out. This was just too close to comfort for me and it was eerie. Since there was nothing else I could say, I smiled politely and excused myself.

---------------------------------

Later on, I was back in the admit area and Luka was trying to look at the cut on my eyebrow. I waved him away.

"I think you should leave early, John," he said to me, looking quite concerned. I hated the looks he was giving me lately. Hell, I hated the looks everyone in the ER was giving me lately. Like I was some pathetic charity case or something. It was getting tiresome.

If I went home, all I would do was think of Kem and the baby. Of course it wasn't like I already wasn't doing that.

"I have a few more things to do before I leave," I said, rubbing tiredly at my eyes. I was so damn tired.

"I'll cover for you," Luka said, staring at me intensely still. I could see concern etched on his features. I was tired and he was trying to do me a favor. Maybe some sleep would do me a little good. I really suddenly felt like sleeping.

"Okay," I agreed raggedly, turning away and walking back toward the lounge. I could feel Luka's eyes on me from behind, but I kept walking. I went into the lounge and gathered up all my things. Once outside I was heading for the El and that's when I saw it: a father pushing a kid in a stroller. I almost choked for breath and the unabated tears sprung to my eyes, stinging them in the process. Suddenly I had no desire to go home, although I had no clue where to go or what to do.

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I found myself in a little dive bar down the street from the ER. I didn't really know how I'd gotten there; I was just walking and this was where I'd ended up. Is this what I really wanted to do? I somehow found myself sitting at the bar with a shot of tequila in front of me: only the hard-core stuff for me. I just stared at the shot; drinking would mean I'd be slipping. After my previous bout with drug use, I didn't even drink alcohol; it was a drug and any sort of drug was bad for me. I stared intensely at the shot for a while longer and it almost seemed to be calling my name. I picked it up and swirled the glass around in my hand for a moment. I remembered how it felt before to be on drugs, how for the time being they would make me forget and all I wanted to do was forget for a while. It wasn't like I was going to do this again; I just wanted to forget right now. Forget that Kem had ripped my heart out and that our baby had been stillborn. I wanted to forget about that father happily pushing his kid in a stroller outside the ER and I just wanted to forget about life for a while. I put the glass down and picked up the salt that the bartender had left on the bar for me. I poured some of it onto my left hand, licking it off as I picked up the tequila again, giving it one last look before bringing it to my lips and emptying the contents of it down my throat. It tasted awful and burned as it went down, but it felt good. I sucked the sour lemon for a moment and then sat the empty glass back down in front of me.

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Seven tequila shots later and I was totally drunk beyond all repair. I finally felt numb, the feeling I'd been searching for since Kem had left me. It was good to feel absolutely nothing for a while. I was positive I wouldn't feel this way in the morning when I was hungover, as I definitely would be, but at least right now I was feeling numb. I needed this; a reprieve for just a little while and the alcohol was just the thing to help me. There was one thought I couldn't get out of my mind though, my patient with the amputated leg. He had let his girlfriend go virtually because of pride and he was afraid because things were tough for him that she'd give up on him. Kem had given up on me when things got tough, but just because it had happened with me didn't mean it had to happen with him. I knew he would later regret letting her go, the way I let Kem go without fighting for her. I had to get through to him and let him know that he had to get her back or else he would regret it for the rest of his life.

I stood up and almost fell flat on my face; how I managed to keep my balance was beyond me. In my drunken state, I actually thought it was kind of funny and laughed out loud. The bartender gave me a weary look.

"I'm okay...I think," I slurred drunkenly. I laughed again and put my hands on the bar to steady myself.

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Somehow I made it back to the ER although I'm not quite sure how. The fresh air had sobered me up just about enough that I wasn't falling over anymore, but I was still wobbly on my feet and I could only imagine what I looked like. I really didn't care because I was on a mission. As I walked into the ER, I could feel two sets of eyes on me and when I looked up I saw that it was Luka and Abby. They were giving me strange looks with concern etched on both of their features.

"I thought you went home," Abby said to me, her eyes showing more than just concern, but also alarm. She wasn't stupid; she knew I was drunk because she'd been there before herself.

"I forgot to do something," I said as I quickly continued to walk toward my destination. I went into Curtain One, where my patient was and stood in front of him and pleaded my case.

"Bad things happen, but you and your girlfriend should try and get through this...Please, call her," I begged him, my voice coming out in a pleading manner.

I noticed that he had tears in his eyes, which was what was rapidly happening to me as well. I whipped out my cell phone and handed it to him.

"You can live through what happened to you, but you may never get over letting go of your ex," I said, staring him intensely in the eyes. I held onto the IV pole that was standing next to me for dear life. If I let go, I was going to fall and not just because I was drunk. Kem was gone; she was really gone and was never coming back. I finally noticed that my patient's mother was in the room and was staring at me wide eyed, obviously concerned for her own and her son's safety. Just as I was about to assure the mother that everything was all right, I felt a presence behind me.

"Dr. Carter, I need to speak with you," I heard Luka's voice say firmly and urgently.

"Call your ex," I said pleadingly as I felt Luka pulling me away from the room. "Call your ex," I begged again before Luka completely pulled me out of the room and into the lounge.

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Once we were in the lounge, Luka sat me down and stared at me for a long moment before beginning to speak. I felt like an animal in a research facility the way he was giving me the once over.

"John, I know you've been having a rough time lately," he said gently. Rough? Rough didn't even begin to describe my situation.

"It's like I was testing myself," I said, knowing that was the truth. My head was down and I could barely even look him in the eyes. He handed me a cup of coffee. I was so out of it, I hadn't even heard him get up and pour the coffee for me. I took it graciously and smiled at him.

"What else is going on?" he asked me, the concern again evident in his voice. I wasn't in the mood to discuss it, as I was still very drunk.

"Nothing, I'm fine," I said, obviously lying. The lie didn't even sound convincing to my own ears and I'm positive Luka didn't believe me anymore than I believed myself.

"You've looked bad all day and I'm not the only who's noticed," Luka said a bit harshly.

I looked up at him finally and sighed. Well I did get whacked in the face today and I could use that as my excuse.

"A woman from psych punched me today," I said, hoping he would believe the lie. I looked up at him and saw that he looked almost frustrated and looked as though he were about to lose it. His next words and especially his tone of voice surprised me.

"You can confide in me," he said gently and softly. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he meant it. We may not have always been the best of friends, but that was in the past. Africa had changed our relationship and we actually had a true honest to God friendship now. And he was right, if anyone knew what I was going through, it would be him. He had lost his entire family and on top of that, I did trust him. Probably more so than anyone else at this point. I decided to open up to him; I needed to open up to someone.

"I've been having trouble sleeping," I began tentatively. "I miss Kem, the baby, the life I would've had with them and I don't know how I'm going to get it all back." I felt tears stinging my eyes again. I definitely didn't want to cry in front of Luka, but wouldn't he understand? He didn't say anything, but put his hand on my shoulder and that was enough. I knew he understood.

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I was back in the admit area and was ready to finally leave. Luka had stayed with me in the lounge until I had sobered up a bit. I had my head down because I didn't want people to see me this way and Luka was right behind me. I realized right then that I didn't have my cell phone; I had given it to my patient.

"I lost my phone," I said quietly to anyone who would listen.

Abby seemed to appear out of nowhere and handed my cell phone back to me. I could see the concern in her eyes. I anticipated what she was going to say next and already had an answer.

"There's a meeting at St. John's, I could go with you," she said. Now the tables were turned and it was Abby offering to go to a meeting with me. Funny how things could change so quickly.

"I just slipped, I don't need to go to a meeting," I declared. It was the truth, because I was not going to get drunk again or use any other drugs.

"Do you keep in touch with your sponsor?" she persisted. Boy, this was sounding all too familiar.

"Yes and I'll be fine," I said a bit irritated. Now I knew how she felt when I had bugged her all of those times when she was drinking; and that's when it hit me squarely between the eyes. I was such a hypocrite, giving her crap when things were bad and she had turned to drinking. And here I was doing the same exact thing.

"All the crap I used to give you. Talk about a hypocrite, huh?" I said, trying to make amends to her.

"No sweat. We're all hypocrites," she said, letting me off the hook. I smiled gratefully at her and she smiled back and then turned around and walked away.

"Do you need a ride home?" I heard Luka ask from behind me.

"I took the train," I said turning around to face him, although it would have been nice to catch a ride home from him, I didn't want to bother him.

"Good night, Carter," he said, smiling at me.

"'Night...and thanks, Luka," I said as I turned back around and started to walk out of the ER and onto the street.

"Anytime...and I mean that," I heard him say. I turned around and smiled, waved and then headed back toward the El.

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By the time I got home I was exhausted. I lay down in bed fully clothed and closed my eyes. I felt myself almost falling asleep immediately. The alcohol had really knocked me out and it felt good to finally fall asleep. I slept that night and slept well with no nightmares; just an alcohol induced sleep. The last thought that ran through my mind was that maybe drinking alcohol before going to bed wasn't such a bad idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Lose The Time**

**  
Author: Whoser-Chick**

**  
Summary: Will Carter's wounds ever heal? Eventually a Carby story.**

**  
Rating: R – for some rough language and drug use (this rating is for the overall story, not each chapter separately).**

**  
Disclaimer: The ER series and its characters belong to Constant C Productions and Warner Brothers. The plot of this story, however, is mine all mine! This story may not be redistributed in any way without the express consent of the author. No infringement is intended.**

**Authors Notes: There seems to be a little confusion on whether the rest of this story is based on spoilers or not; it's not. Only the first chapter was based on spoilers. The rest of the chapters are from my own imagination. The spoilers I read were the inspiration for this story, however. I've only read spoilers for the first two episodes of season 11, so I have no clue what is actually going to happen after those two episodes.**

**I'd like to thank my beta readers: Beth and Chrissy. Thanks for all your invaluable input. I couldn't have done it without you guys!**

**Chapter 2**

**Carter's POV**

The next morning I woke up with the hangover from hell. It'd been a long time since I had drank anything and the alcohol had hit me really hard. Although it didn't help that I had actually drank a hell of a lot of it as well.

I tried to sit up in bed, but my head protested because it was swimming and my stomach was threatening to empty the contents of my dinner from the previous evening. This was a horrible feeling and I just wanted it to go away. I hated the feeling of being hungover. I very slowly got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom where I kept my aspirin. I opened up the medicine cabinet and extracted the bottle, taking three little pills from it. I replaced the bottle of aspirin back in the medicine cabinet and closed it. My next step was the kitchen where I could get some water.

**0000000000**

After getting the water and taking the aspirin I sat down at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. My head was throbbing like someone was pounding a sledgehammer into it and it was still swimming. Everything was swaying back and forth, yet nothing was actually moving. I groaned and was thankful today was my day off. If I'd had to go to work in this condition it wouldn't have been good. The only good feeling I had this morning was one of having gotten some sleep. And I wasn't thinking of Kem and the baby...until now of course. I had slept a good nine hours with no interruptions and no horrible nightmares.

I decided I'd spend the day getting my jeep fixed and catching up on things that needed to be done. By the end of the day I felt like I had accomplished a lot. Actually these days, just making it through the day was an accomplishment in itself. My jeep was fixed...for the time being, and I had been able to catch up on a lot. It was now 1AM and I was lying in bed trying to go to sleep again. My shift didn't start until noon tomorrow, but I wanted to get another good night's sleep. Tonight didn't seem like last night though; sleep wasn't coming willingly. I was lying in bed completely wide-awake. It had felt so good to sleep last night, why couldn't it be like that tonight? And of course I was back to thinking about Kem and the baby. The bed I was in felt so empty without her here. It was amazing how much I could miss someone. And it was amazing how much I could love and miss a baby I'd never even gotten to know. But it had been my baby and I guess that made all the difference. It was also amazing that Kem and I had only been together a little over ten months and yet it felt like I had known her forever and that we'd been together for years. I'd dated other women longer than Kem, like Abby for instance, yet this breakup felt like it was the worst of my life. I'm not sure why that was.

The rest of the night I tossed and turned and had nightmares about Kem and the baby.

**0000000000**

The next morning I got up at about 10AM after having only really slept for a couple of hours once more. This was going to have to stop and I was going to have to find a way to make it stop. I needed sleep and I needed to forget as well. Remembering was what was killing me and I couldn't keep going on this way. I was becoming a wreck physically, and emotionally I was almost dead inside.

I worked my normal twelve-hour shift: noon to midnight. It was a normal shift with normal things happening; traumas including MVAs, a stabbing and many more things. It was very rare in emergency medicine for any of us to get off work at the times we were supposed to; but tonight I was lucky because we weren't very busy and I was able leave on time. As exhausted as I was, I wasn't in the mood to go home quite yet. I almost thought about sleeping at the ER tonight because I'd probably get more sleep there than at home. I used to be able to go to Gamma's house when I was having trouble sleeping in the past. There I could fall asleep almost immediately, but now that she was gone and I'd donated the house for use in medical research, that was out of the question.

The thought of going home was quite unappealing. Nobody else was getting off work right now that I could get coffee with and it was too late to call anyone. I didn't know where to go, so I just began walking. Walking and thinking about everything, letting my feet guide me without really even paying attention. I wasn't really surprised to see where I'd ended up. I was back at the little dive bar down the street from the ER again. I made my way inside and to a bar stool, standing there indecisively for a moment before sitting down. At first I just ordered a coke because I had promised myself I wouldn't do this again. I had slipped the other day and that was it; a slip. If I drank now, it would be more than a slip. But after drinking the other night, I could actually sleep; I was actually able to forget about Kem and the baby for a while. It had felt so good...just one more time and then I'd find another more productive way of forgetting and sleeping. Maybe I'd even go to therapy because as stubborn as I was, Lord knew I needed to talk to someone about all of this and maybe, just maybe, a therapist was the right person. Maybe I'd even call my AA sponsor and start going back to meetings on a regular basis. Yeah, that's what I'd do...starting tomorrow. But tonight was tonight and I was going to get very drunk so I could sleep and forget for a while. Tonight was the last time though...I promised myself.

**0000000000**

The next day was the hangover from hell again. I wondered why I had decided to put myself through this again. Unfortunately today I did have to work, albeit not until 4pm. I loved my job, but working so many varied hours screwed up my already less than perfect sleep schedule. I figured I'd spend the day getting over my hangover, which is exactly what I did and by the time I went into work I was feeling better. And of course I had gotten a good night's sleep, although it had been an alcohol induced sleep, which of course was different than regular sleep, but at least I felt more rested. Of course I felt horrible as well due to the hangover, but drinking had helped me sleep and had kept the nightmares at bay.

I was going to try and find an herbal supplement that was non-habit forming that maybe would help me sleep at night.

**0000000000**

After work I went to a 24 hour Savon and found something called Valerian Root, which was an herbal supplement that supposedly worked as well as sleeping pills. I hoped it would help. I also picked up a pack of Sleepy Time Tea. It couldn't hurt to have more than one herbal sleeping supplement around the house.

As I wandered through the store I came upon the alcohol section. I froze and found myself standing in front of the beer and wanting to buy a six-pack to take home with me. The way it made me forget, and sleep...my hand actually started to reach out for it.

'No!' I thought, 'I already have my sleeping aids with me right here. I don't need the alcohol.'

My hand found its way back to my side and I stood there and stared at the beer for a minute more. I turned around and walked away, paying for my things quickly in order to avoid the temptation that had become so great. When had this whole thing become about alcohol? It was about Kem and the baby leaving me, not alcohol. How had I suddenly come to rely on it? This wasn't a good sign and I knew it. Things had to change; I had to get my life back on track.

**0000000000**

It turned out that the Valerian Root and Sleepy Time Tea didn't really help me all that much. It made me a bit drowsy, but not enough to keep my mind from whirling around thoughts of Kem and the baby when I was trying to sleep. So here I was, two nights of taking this stuff, only to still get just a few hours of sleep at night.

I ached to call Kem in Africa and I was sure I could reach her somehow. As I was lying in bed, my hand reached out for the phone. If I called her, I could hear her voice that I loved so much. And maybe if I called her, I could convince her to come back to me, convince her that I needed her and wanted to have another baby with her. But what if she rejected me again? Would I ever be able to live with that? Would I ever be able to get over it? Probably not. And most likely I wouldn't be able to draw her away from her work in Africa. Her work that was her life, her work that she probably loved more than she did me.

I scrubbed a tired hand over my face and sighed. This was getting old; I was getting so sick of only being able to think of Kem and the baby. This was just ludicrous. I had other things in my life and I needed to start getting back into my old routine. And I needed to sleep. Sleep deprivation was a serious thing and I knew that, it was unhealthy. I never touched things like over-the-counter sleeping pills anymore, but maybe I'd have to. Or maybe just some Tylenol PM, which would be less addictive than sleeping pills. I needed something though, because if I didn't start getting some sleep soon, it was going to kill me. Once again, the last thought I had before falling into a restless sleep was that alcohol was the one thing that could make me sleep and keep the nightmares at bay.

**0000000000**

I woke up the next morning even more tired than I'd been in the past. And I'd been tired in the past. I supposed all this not sleeping was finally catching up to me. I was bound and determined to change my dreary outlook on life though, no matter what state of mind I was in. So therefore I made an effort to be happy and positive. If I was happy and positive on the outside, maybe I'd eventually feel that on the inside as well.

My plan today was to call my AA sponsor and set up an appointment, and to be honest about what was going on. I also decided to look into seeing a therapist and as we had many at County, I was pretty sure I'd be able to find one I liked. I had to work today and so all of this was going to have to be taken care of at County. I quickly got ready and headed out the door for work.

**0000000000**

Once I was there, I put on my happy face. I smiled at everyone and pretended like everything was okay and that I was happy. I didn't say anything negative and was only positive. Even though I wasn't feeling it on the inside, it still felt better to pretend like everything was okay than to have my dreary attitude.

Everyone seemed to be happy that I was back to myself; that is everyone except for Abby. I saw the looks she gave me all day because she was concerned and she was the one person who knew me well enough to see through my facade. We rarely ever talked about Kem and the baby and we really only made small talk these days. We were still good friends, but our lives were in two different places now. She had just become a doctor and was getting her life back on track, while mine was falling apart. Sometimes it drove me crazy when she'd give me those looks and I wanted to wipe them right off of her face. I knew she meant well though; it was because she still cared that she was concerned.

I was in the lounge and it was my break time. I was on the phone with my AA sponsor setting up a meeting to see him.

"Tonight? Sure," I said in response to his asking me about a good time for us to get together. We were discussing where we'd meet when Abby walked in. I tried to keep my side of the conversation at a minimum, because for some reason I didn't want her to know I was seeing my AA sponsor, but I wasn't quite sure why. I supposed it was because she'd know I'd slipped again.

She went about her business as I ended my conversation. When I was off the phone, she spoke immediately.

"Hey," she said, and I heard the tentativeness in her voice. It wasn't so great to have someone at work that knew me so well I was finding out.

"Hey," I tossed back cheerfully, making sure I was smiling.

"Making an appointment to see your sponsor, huh?" she asked bluntly, staring at me intensely, with her eyes seeming to bore a hole into mine. She was standing in front of the table I was sitting at.

What was it with her? How could she know these things?

"What, you have ESP or something?" I asked, remembering a time when I had asked her that same exact question, but the tables were turned now. She had been drunk and I had been trying to get her to go to a meeting then.

"I believe you've asked me that question before," she said smiling, obviously remembering that conversation as well. She paused and then began again. "I've made that appointment before...I know what it's like," she ended. She was wearing her lab coat that said, 'Dr. Lockhart.' I was very proud of her.

"Yeah, right," I said flippantly, dropping my hands lazily onto the table in front of me. She pulled out a chair and sat down directly across from me.

'Here we go,' I thought.

"You know I'm here for you, right? Regardless of our history, I'm still your friend and I still care about you," she said, her eyes reflecting her care and concern for me.

"I know, thanks and I'm fine," I said, with a plastered fake smile on my face. "I'm finally beginning to feel like myself again." God, the words sounded fake even to my own ears. I knew there was no way in hell that Abby would believe me if I couldn't even believe myself. And I was right; she gave me a very skeptical look. She knew me well, probably better than anyone here at the ER. Her look was making me uncomfortable and I could feel myself squirming in my chair. I really didn't want to have this conversation when I was trying to convince everyone that I was all right.

"Look, I have to get back to work, my break is over," I said standing up. I smiled and started walking in the direction of the door.

"Carter," she said, frustration evident in her voice.

I turned around and said, "I have to go. I'm fine and thanks for your concern. If I need help, I promise I'll come to you, okay?" I said looking her directly in the eyes trying to drive my point home. I turned around and quickly made my way out of the lounge before she could say anything else. I felt her eyes boring into my back as I walked out the door, but I kept on walking.

**0000000000**

My talk with my sponsor had gone relatively well and I admitted to him that I was drinking and why. He realized I was going through a really tough time and told me that that was the hardest time for an addict. He gave me some tips on how to deal with my cravings for alcohol and also told me that I could call him anytime day or night.

Even though the meeting had gone relatively well, it still didn't seem to help in my craving of alcohol. After the meeting I was exhausted and went home, hoping I'd be able to fall right to sleep. Of course as had been par for the course lately I wasn't able to get to sleep. I ended up deciding to take a late night stroll. I knew it was cold, but I still figured maybe it would help. I got out of bed, got dressed, grabbed my coat, keys and wallet and walked out the door into the chilly night air.

For a long while I just wandered around my neighborhood going nowhere in particular, just walking and thinking. Before long I found myself out on one of the main roads in Chicago. And when I saw a taxi cab a few minutes later, my hand automatically went up to hail it. I wasn't even sure why I'd done it, or where I wanted to go.

When the cab driver asked me for an address, I was silent for a few minutes, wondering why the hell I'd even gotten into the cab if I had no idea where I wanted to go.

"Hey, buddy, tell me where you want to go, or get the hell out," the cab driver said gruffly. I finally rattled off an address and off we went.

**0000000000**

I sat down on the bar stool with certainty this time and ordered a rum and coke without even thinking twice about it. Subconsciously, I knew that when I had gotten out of bed for my late night stroll, that I would end up here. I guess this was my plan all along. One would think after having just seen my AA sponsor that this would be the last place I would go to, but somehow I ended up here. I wasn't doing this every night though and contrary to what people would think if they knew, I had it under control. I wasn't letting it affect my work and I only did it at night when I couldn't sleep. And alcohol was the only drug I was "taking." I wasn't back to stealing drugs at work again. As Abby had told me last year, I had this under control and I was okay.

**0000000000**

Over the next few weeks I found myself at the little dive bar at least three to four times a week. And of course I could sleep on the nights I had gone there. I'd fall right into an alcohol-induced sleep and wouldn't have any nightmares. On the nights I'd decide not to go to the bar, I'd still have a hard time sleeping. And even though the nightmares didn't come all the time anymore, they came frequently enough to still cause me distress.

I was keeping my cheery and positive attitude up at work and most people were beginning to believe my wounds were actually healing. In a way, I was beginning to feel like my wounds were healing as well, at least on the outside. And I couldn't lie. The alcohol was helping.

Days and nights blurred into each other as my life became work and the bar mostly. Sometimes Luka and I would go grab a bite to eat after our shifts. And that was the only time I would really open up and reveal that my happy-go-lucky attitude was all a farce and that really I was as depressed as ever, missing Kem and the baby more with each passing day. Luka was the only one I could really open up to but I didn't even tell him that I was drinking. That was my little secret.

Time was not healing this wound and I found myself drinking more and more to forget. I still had it under control though. I was not in denial as some people might have said if I had told them the truth. It still wasn't affecting work and I'd never let it get that far, like before; that I promised myself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Lose The Time  
  
Author: Whoser-Chick  
  
Summary: Will Carter's wounds ever heal? Eventually a Carby story.  
  
Rating: R – for some rough language and drug use.  
  
Disclaimer: The ER series and its characters belong to Constant C Productions and Warner Brothers. The plot of this story, however, is mine all mine! This story may not be redistributed in any way without the express consent of the author. No infringement is intended.  
  
Spoilers: 11x01 – **_One For The Road_** and 11x02 – **_Damaged_**. If you don't want to know what happens in these two episodes, then don't read this story, it goes into depth about 11x02 – **_Damaged_**.  
  
Author's notes: Sorry for the delay in posting. I got into a serious car accident this past weekend that I was ever so lucky to walk away from with only minor injuries. Wish I could say the same for my car. The driver's side (where the girl hit me – wasn't my fault, she ran a red light and hit me on the driver's side full force, and never even slowed down or tried to stop. Can we say I'm incredibly lucky?) is completely smashed in and the car will have to be totaled. But hey, I'm here, right? **

**Anyway, here is chapter 3. I've only written up to chapter 4, and with everything's that's been going on, after I post chapter 4, it might be a while until I post chapter 5. But I promise I will keep it coming, so just bear with me. : )**

**  
Feedback: Yes, as long as it is constructive criticism. No flames please.   
  
I'd like to thank my beta readers: Beth and Chrissy. Thanks for all your invaluable input. I couldn't have done it without you guys!**

**Chapter 3**

**Abby's POV**

I had been watching him recently; watching him plunge head first into a downward spiral of depression and drinking. People who didn't know him as well as I did thought he was doing better. Just recently he'd started being happy and cheerful at work, like everything was fine. But I knew him well; that was his defense mechanism and he used it when things got rough and he didn't want people to keep asking him if he was all right.

It had been about a month and a half since the baby had died and only a little over a month since Kem had left him. That definitely wasn't enough time to get over a loss of this magnitude. I knew he opened up to Luka because I'd see them leaving together after work sometimes and although Luka wouldn't tell me what they talked about, he did tell me they talked; really talked. And that just supported my suspicions even more about Carter really not doing well.

Then there were the days he'd come in looking like he was hungover. I had been there before...I knew what hungover really looked like. It seemed more and more he was coming into work hungover. I longed to talk to him, to help him. I hated seeing him like this: hurt, depressed, feeling like he was all alone and feeling like his life was falling apart. And he was turning to alcohol to help him cope. Having been there myself, I already knew this wouldn't end well.

I really wanted to help him, but there was nothing I could do. I'd already tried to talk to him to no avail, and the next step had to be his. I couldn't help him unless he truly wanted help; wanted to help himself. All I could do was be there for him in the best way possible.

It was hard for me to stand by and do nothing though. I honestly cared about him, and when you cared about someone, doing nothing was hard. But me pushing him would probably only force him further into drinking; and that was the last thing I wanted.

**00000000000000000000**

The next day at work he came in looking like death warmed over. I was shocked and alarmed at his appearance. His face was extremely pale, he had dark circles underneath his eyes, he had a five o'clock shadow and looked like he was losing weight overnight. I knew the drinking, lack of sleep and stress was taking its toll on him, but to actually see him looking like this...it was almost heartbreaking; it only confirmed that he was not dealing with the loss of his son or Kem well at all. I saw him walk into the lounge and decided to follow him in; but I needed to tread carefully without pushing too hard.

As I walked into the lounge I saw him putting his stuff into his locker and slinging his stethoscope around his neck.

"Hey," I said softly from behind. He jumped a little bit, obviously startled, having not heard me come in.

"Hey," he said back, turning around to greet me, cracking a smile that didn't reach his dark chocolate eyes. He quickly turned back around and shut his locker door. He sounded as bad as he looked.

"How's it going?" I asked lightly. Again, I had to be careful here.

"Fine, everything's fine," he said flippantly, turning back toward me. I could see he was purposefully avoiding eye contact because he kept his head and eyes down toward the floor.

"You look tired," I said bluntly, yet casually, trying to catch his gaze. 'So much for treading lightly,' I thought.

"Yeah, I didn't go to the b...," he let his sentence trail off and then hurriedly cleared his throat. He started fidgeting and it almost looked he wanted to run screaming out of the lounge. It was very obvious he was uncomfortable with where the conversation was leading and he was still avoiding my eyes as if they were the plague.

He began his sentence again, giving me a different story. "Yeah, I had a hard time sleeping last night...you know how it can be sometimes," he said softly, his eyes finally wandering up to mine. His eyes held so much pain inside of them and it made my heart ache all over for him again. And I knew what he had been about to say before; he was going to say he was so tired because he hadn't gone to the bar last night. I could've called him on it, but I decided that wouldn't get me anywhere.

"You want to go get some coffee in a while?" I asked, hoping he'd accept. He needed the coffee, I could tell. He needed the break as well.

"Sounds good. I'll catch up with you later, but I have to get to work. Weaver is going to have my ass already for being late. Damn jeep is already giving me problems again even though I just got it fixed," he said hurriedly and almost angrily.

"You need to get a car that works," I said echoing a conversation we had had when we were dating. He cracked a genuine smile, which was good to see.

"Someday...Someday I will. I'll catch up with you later on that coffee," he said as he began to make his way out of the lounge. I stared after him; our conversation had not eased my worry any. I sighed and made my way out of the lounge back into the vortex that was the ER.

**0000000000000000000000000000**

I caught up with Carter later on in our shifts and practically forced him into a cup of coffee with me. I could see he needed it, so we went to the cafeteria and got our coffees, and then took a little stroll outside. We were both on break, but he needed the break more than I did. We didn't talk about anything too serious at first; we just made small talk. We ended up in a spot we both knew well; the bench in front of the river that I had once considered our spot, because we had been there so many times together.

We sat down on the bench and for a while just sat in a comfortable silence. I didn't want to push him into any type of conversation he wasn't ready for.

"Thanks for dragging me out here, I really needed it," he said, rubbing a hand over his tired looking face, breaking our silence. "I'm just so damned tired lately and coffee seems to be the only thing that can wake me up," he ended.

I didn't say anything, but put a friendly hand on his shoulder and he glanced at me, a small smile gracing his features.

"I don't know how my life got so turned upside down," he said sadly, sighing as he looked out into the river, as if it would have the answer he was looking for.

I couldn't believe he was actually opening up to me. This was the first time he was voluntarily divulging his inner thoughts to me. I didn't say anything for fear that he'd realize what he was doing and stop. I kept my hand on his shoulder though, rubbing it gently to let him know I was listening and was here for him.

"I miss Kem and the baby," he said in a hoarse whisper. He continued to stare straight ahead into the river. "Do you know we were having trouble coming up with a name for the baby that we both liked? I really liked George, but she didn't," he paused and took a deep breath and then continued again, "but in the end we decided we were going to keep the Carter family tradition and name him Jonathan Truman Carter the fourth," he finally ended and I could see the tears welling up in his eyes. I squeezed his shoulder, encouraging him to go on. I was still afraid to speak, feeling that if I did I'd break the spell he was under that was causing him to actually open up to me.

"I wasn't exactly planning to have a baby at this stage in my life, especially with a woman I'd only known for six weeks when she became pregnant...but when she told me she was pregnant, I was actually happy. I realized..." he trailed off and let the tears run freely down his cheeks. He made no move to wipe them away. A huge part of me wanted to reach out and wipe the tears away for him, but I didn't. I just continued to rub his shoulder.

"Am I ever going to be able to have another baby with anyone?" he whispered brokenly as he finally looked at me, almost as if he expected me to have the answers. There was so much desperation in his eyes that I had to answer him; even if it did mean breaking my code of silence and the spell he was under.

"You will, John," I began, rubbing his shoulder a little bit harder now. "You'll meet the right woman someday and you'll have children together...it'll happen for you. I know it will," I ended. I hoped I had said the right thing. No one could predict the future and I didn't know for sure that he'd meet a woman and have children with her; how could I know that? But it had just seemed like the right thing to say at that particular moment.

I noticed that he was now staring at me much more intensely. His gaze penetrated into my very soul it seemed. "Thank you, Abby," he said softly, while finally wiping the tears from his face, his voice cracking a bit in the process.

And that's when the spell ended, because our conversation was over. It seemed he had suddenly realized he had opened up to me and was uncomfortable again. He refused to meet my gaze and was fidgeting with his hands. He stood up very quickly and turned around to meet my eyes, only to tell me his next words.

"I have to get back to work. I'll catch you later, okay?" he said at what seemed like lightening speed. He turned around and walked away before I could even reply. Well, anything was better than nothing, I supposed.

**0000000000000000000000000**

Over the next few weeks, I watched Carter fall into an even more alarming depression than he had been in before. His happy-go-lucky attitude was completely gone and although he never missed a shift and was always punctual, performing his duties with the same skill as always, it felt like he was only there in body, not spirit. He barely ever spoke to anyone outside of giving orders to treat patients. I noticed he went into the lounge by himself a lot and also noticed that the time he was spending with Luka outside of work was diminishing. And one time I'd accidentally walked in on a conversation between him and Luka in the lounge in which Luka was trying to persuade him to go for a bite to eat after their shifts were over. Luka had voiced his concern at Carter's refusal of the offer and Carter had actually yelled at him to leave him alone, getting up and leaving the lounge in such a rush he had almost knocked me over. I heard him muttering something about how he wished everyone in the damn ER would just leave him the fuck alone. Luka and I had shared a look of concern and talked about Carter's diminishing state of mind, and how it seemed he was getting worse and not better.

It was getting harder and harder for me to see my ex-lover this way: a broken and depressed man. And although I realized he was going to need a lot of time to get over this, the way he was rapidly deteriorating was frightening. He needed help and I wasn't quite sure how to give it to him. He needed to talk to a therapist; he obviously wasn't going to be able to get through this without some professional help. But trying to talk Carter into going to therapy would be like pulling teeth; I knew he wouldn't do it unless it was his own idea.

I saw Luka walking down the hall and asked if I could talk to him alone in the lounge. I needed to get his opinion and maybe even his help. Carter seemed to really trust him the most.

"What's up?" he asked once I had him in the lounge. We were sitting at the lone table and luckily no one else was in here at the moment.

"I know we've talked about Carter's situation before, but I'm starting to get even more worried about him; he seems to be rapidly deteriorating and I'm afraid something really bad is going to happen," I ended, hoping Luka would have some ideas.

"I know," Luka sighed. He looked just as concerned as I felt, his eyes giving everything away. "He hasn't wanted to go get anything to eat after work at all lately and he hasn't been opening up to me anymore either...But he has been through a lot," Luka paused and looked me right in the eyes. I knew that look and I already knew I wasn't going to like what he was going to say.

"When I lost my family," he continued, "It was devastating. It takes a long time to heal from a wound like that; years even. And truthfully, you never get over the loss of a child...I think he just needs more time," Luka ended, looking in the opposite direction of me.

I knew it was painful for him to talk about the loss of his family. And even though I understood Carter needed time, his destructive ways were only going to get worse with time, not better. I knew that from firsthand experience.

"I understand he needs time," I began, "And I'm not trying to force him to get over this; but he's not doing himself any favors by drinking himself into an oblivion to forget. Believe me, I know," I paused trying to gather my thoughts and think of exactly what I wanted to say. "It's been almost three months and instead of getting better he's only getting worse. He needs professional help; it's the only way he's going to start to heal. What he's doing right now is not healing, Luka," I ended desperately, wanting someone else to see this from my point of view.

"We can't force him to get help, Abby," Luka started, putting a hand on my shoulder. "I'm concerned about him, too, and I do want to help; really. But sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better. **_I_** know this from personal experience," he stated.

"And you're okay with that explanation?" I asked incredulously. "You're okay with just watching him destroy his life, watching him waste away like this?" I couldn't believe I was hearing these words from him. I practically stared daggers at him.

He smiled slightly at my look and then said, "Come on, Abby, of course I care and of course I don't want to see him this way. But you know as well as I do that we can't help him unless he truly wants our help," he ended, his accent becoming thicker which each word it seemed.

"I know," I sighed helplessly, knowing what he was saying was the truth, as I'd thought the same exact thing on many occasions. "I just hate to see him this way," I said softly, lowering my head.

"I know," Luka said sympathetically, touching my cheek in a friendly manner. "I don't like it any better than you do."

"What are we going to do?" I asked, looking back up at him. We were the only two that really knew what was going on with him.

"Be his friends and try to help him in any way possible," Luka said, rubbing my shoulder. I knew he was just as concerned as I was.

Just then Chuny came crashing through the lounge door. "Abby, Carter needs you in Trauma One, your patient just started seizing," she yelled loudly and quickly.

"Which one?" I asked, going through my patients in my mind that could possibly be seizing, as I stood up.

"Brian Gomez, the MVA," she said, closing the door to the lounge and heading back into the ER.

"I have to go, obviously," I paused and smiled, thinking of how silly it was of me to have said that. Of course he knew I had to go, he was a doctor himself. "But thanks for listening," I said, giving him a genuine smile.

"Anytime," he said, standing up with me. "I have to get back to work anyway," he said. And we both made our way out of the lounge and I headed off toward Trauma One.

**000000000000000000000000000**

"Where the hell were you?" Carter practically screamed at me as I walked in. "Your patient started seizing and you were nowhere to be found!" he yelled, throwing daggers my way with his stare. He was frustrated and was completely overreacting. None of us could keep an eye on all of our patients all the time.

"I'm here now," I said, stepping in to help him.

"You should've been keeping a better eye on your patient," he said very gruffly, handing me the chart. "It's not my job to watch an intern's patient," he ended, trying to catch my eyes, to get his point across. I ignored him as my patient was seizing quite badly.

"Has he been given any anti-seizure medication yet?" I asked quickly.

"Not yet, what do you want to give him?" Carter asked in an irritated tone of voice. I looked at the chart in my hand to check for any drug allergies and to see if he was currently on any other medications. His wife who had filled out his chart listed no known drug allergies or other medications. Just as I was about to give the orders, Carter stepped in for me.

"Damn it, Abby, you need to be quicker. What are you thinking about? Next time just give the damn drug order, or I'll continue to do it for you! One hundred and fifty of Phenobarbital," he barked, staring at me angrily. It was the first time he had ever treated me this way in a trauma. Even when I was a nurse, he still treated me equally. I was taken aback and shocked by his actions. This was the person who had told me months earlier that I was going to make a great doctor. This was the person who had paid my tuition when I thought I was going to have to drop out of med school again, because I didn't have the money to pay it, and who told me he was giving me the money and that I didn't have to pay him back, because he believed in me.

It took me a second to get back into trauma gear and ignore the way he was treating me, but I finally did and right as I was about to get the Phenobarbital he yelled, "Never mind, I'll get it myself!" He brushed by me in an irritated fashion and walked over to the drug lock up cabinet, unlocked it and pulled up two hundred of Phenobarbital into a syringe.

"I was going to get it, Carter. I don't know what your problem is, but this is my patient and **_I_** will give the orders," I said angrily. I knew he had much more seniority over me, but I wasn't about to let him get away with this attitude of his.

He turned around and looked at me, his pupils were slits and the color of his eyes a darker brown than usual. They held anger in them, and even though he was yelling at me, I could see that the anger in his eyes wasn't really directed toward me. It was anger at the world in general, anger for what had happened to his baby and Kem leaving him. He actually didn't say a word, but just stared at me for a moment. Then as if he realized he was in a trauma he quickly walked back over to my patient.

At first I didn't think twice about the dosage of Phenobarbital he had drawn up as I went to help him hold down my patient. But then I realized the orders were one hundred and fifty of Phenobarbital, not two hundred. I decided to call him on it, after all the exact dose was essential in medicine.

"You said one fifty not two hundred," I said pointing at the syringe.

"Uh...I guess I, uh, made a mistake," he said nervously, which really threw me for a loop. "I'll just give the one fifty...help me hold him down," he said as he gave the Phenobarbital IV. After giving the one fifty he put the syringe with the extra fifty into his lab coat pocket. Alarms immediately went off in my head. Of course everyone had done that before, I'd even been guilty of it myself. But the way he was acting nervous, flighty and angry made me think that maybe the extra fifty hadn't been an accident after all. I wasn't quite sure what to do. I decided to stay to make sure he disposed of it properly.

My patient immediately stopped seizing. We took the basic vitals and I wrote everything down in the chart, while Carter went about his business. I wasn't watching him because I was busy writing, but I could hear him doing things behind me; cleaning up I assumed.

Haleh came into the trauma room and announced that Luka needed help because we had a triple MVA in the ambulance bay. Man, today was turning out to be a really busy day for MVAs.

"Go on and help Luka," Carter said in a flat tone of voice, "I'll finish up here," he ended, running a hand through his hair and sighing. It was obvious that he was really tired.

I really didn't want to leave; I wanted to watch him dispose of the extra fifty of Phenobarbital the right way.

"He's my patient, I'll finish up, why don't you go?" I asked, hoping he'd go for it.

"Whatever," he said angrily as he took off his gloves and started walking toward the door, not looking at me on purpose.

"Carter...what about the extra fifty of Phenobarbital in your pocket?" I asked squeezing my eyes shut momentarily. I really hadn't wanted to ask that, but what was I supposed to do? And because Carter and I knew each other so well, I knew he'd get the inflection in my voice and I knew he'd know why I was asking. And I wasn't wrong.

He whipped around so quickly that I thought he was going to fall flat on his face for a second. I had never in my life seen him look as angry as he did right now. It was a little scary and disconcerting. He stared at me in a way I had never seen, without saying a word for a moment.

"I threw it in the sharps container already, _Abby_," he said with utter disdain in his voice. "I can't believe you would think...I can't believe you...._Dr. Lockhart_," he said scathingly, drawing out my last name. I was shocked at the way he was speaking to me. I knew Carter could get mean when he got angry at times, but even with over a year of dating, I'd never seen him act like this toward me. The last time I had seen this side of him was when he was addicted to drugs...Shit, he wasn't, right? Even with the alarms going off in my mind, I still didn't want to believe it. He turned around and headed in the direction of the sharps container. He grabbed a syringe out from the very top and showed it to me, practically throwing it in my direction. It was in fact the syringe he had used to push the Phenobarbital and it still had the extra fifty in it.

"Are you happy now?" he asked sarcastically, the anger flashing in his eyes almost making me want to take a step back. He took a step toward me, and I realized I actually took a step back at the same time.

"Carter, I didn't mean it like that," I lied, even though we both knew I had. And why was I lying to him? Why didn't I just tell him that I did mean it like that? It was something in his eyes that was making me hold back. The type of anger I saw there, it actually scared me a little bit and that was very hard to admit. I wasn't the type of person who backed down in the face of fear, and not a lot scared me, so to admit that my ex-boyfriend was almost on the verge of scaring me was disconcerting to say the least.

"I have to go help Luka," he said hotly, suddenly turning on his heals and actually throwing the syringe back into the sharps container. "And I can't believe **_you_** of all people would even think of accusing me of this!" he yelled as he stormed out of the trauma room.

Maybe I had jumped to conclusions and had been too hasty in my accusation. Even though he hadn't really disposed of it correctly, he had put it in the sharps container after all. Either way it didn't matter, I didn't like the person Carter was turning into.

**0000000000000000000000**

Later on that day, after searching fruitlessly for my stethoscope and realizing I'd left it in Trauma One with my earlier seizing patient, I headed that way to pick it up. Just as I laid my hand down on the handle and was going to open the door, a movement from inside the room caught my attention. I could see through the window that the room was free of any traumas, but that Carter was standing in there by himself. I kept my hand on the door handle, but decided not to open the door quite yet. He was fishing through the sharps container and I saw him take out the syringe that had the extra fifty of Phenobarbital in it from earlier. He stared at it for a moment very intensely, spinning it around in his hand. He then quickly changed the needle to a new fresh one. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest, I was afraid he'd be able to hear it from inside the room. I wasn't witnessing this happening, I couldn't be. I watched as he lifted up his watch on his left wrist and then quickly glanced up at the door, looking right in my direction. I quickly moved out of direct sight, but where I could still see him. He obviously hadn't seen me, because he continued on with what he was doing, which was sticking the needle in his wrist and injecting the rest of the Phenobarbital into himself.

How could I have not seen this coming? What was I supposed to do now? Tell Kerry on him like I had before all those years ago? It was different now, we'd been through so much together and I didn't know if I could just go tell Kerry like I had before. But could I stand by and watch him destroy his life? I needed to think, but right now my head was so cloudy because of what I'd just witnessed and I seemed to be having a hard time breathing.

I put my head down and began to walk away. I finally verbally used the swear word that had been whirling around in my mind the whole time I had been witnessing Carter's relapse back into drug addiction. "Fuck," I muttered quietly under my breath.


End file.
